Acts of Penance
by damnation soldier
Summary: When King Spellbinder conquered Anodyne, he brought home not a prisoner, not a corpse, but a child of great destiny. A child he hoped was able to change everything, right his wrongs and somehow shed some light onto his broken daughter. She may do just that, or break free from his control, and set fire to his kingdom.


Spellbinder remembered the day he was just Phillip. A young prince of Ledgerdomain, a boy. He remembered the years he spent in the holds of the castle doing a plentiful of activities.

He attained royal education with private scholars as tutors, he roamed in the gardens with his playmates, usually a few of the nobles' children; he was in his place. A child, devoid from participating in the rages of war.

When he turned twelve though, something in his father, Raphael or formally known as King Alatar, changed. His behavior towards his son grew strict, formal at best, and he would show little to no compassion if his son ever disappointed his expectations.

Phillip became depraved of a childhood. Friends were forbidden to visit and playtime in the gardens eventually morphed into horse riding or sword fighting lessons with the knights or his father himself on occasions. Leisurely reading, his lessons of music and art, anything he came to love was torn from him, replaced by prolonged studies in history, war, weaponry and magic.

Raphael forced his heir to outgrow the frustrations, the initial protests of his newly transformed daily life and would discipline his son in a number of ways. A gentle parenting was less and less reminiscent of what he gave in return for unmet wishes, in fact if anyone knew what went within the castle walls, the King wasn't breeding a child, but a soldier instead.

On tougher days, Phillip envied the peasants littering the kingdom's borders sometimes. They were free, without the constant burden of excellence. Yet he never despised his father's questionably cruel choices in raising him.

Phillip could only pity his younger brother, Devon, who went by Hex by the time he was a novice magician. Devon underwent the same treatment as his older sibling, even though he was second in line for the ascension to the throne – Alatar wanted contingencies.

The difference was Devon was less than reluctant to come abroad his higher calling as a pupil in the world of sorcery. He didn't question his father's method, never even came close to wanting another life in exchange for the one he led. Hex was perfectly content in his place, eager to learn and please the family's head, his King.

Devon's accepting attitude did rub onto the crown prince eventually that he began to consider his duties as privileges instead of obligations. Though Hex's talent in magic could compare to that of a prodigy, in later years when they were both teenagers, Spellbinder's skills caught up and even surpassed that of his own father.

The relationship between the two brothers was strained when it became apparent that despite the youngest's unparalleled loyalty in his father's beliefs, the King could only deem him second choice. It wasn't that Devon wanted to murder his brother and take his place as future ruler or the sort, it's just he wanted Alatar to give him the same things he did to Phillip.

Phillip was given opportunities to be out on the field, alongside the royal knights and generals. He was given opportunities to tour the realms with the companion of his father, foreseeing the other lands and what they could mean in potential.

He was given everything. Praise, attention, love, nurturing. At least it was like that in Hex's perspective, and he never came to understand Spellbinder's former distaste for it.

When they came of age for marriage, Hex firmly denied his right of immediately choosing a bride. He didn't want to woo some woman and let alone have some commoner bred his blood seed. Alatar decided it was alright, but his first son cannot escape the task as an eligible bachelor whom had yet to marry and provide him the necessary heir. It was public knowledge that Alatar's line mustn't end.

Phillip did come to fall in love, at his own speed. His father had to confess that the woman who captured his heart wasn't one who came to his imagination during meditation. She was a mundane being, a speck of dust compared to his son, whom had grown into a powerful wizard. He supposed Hex had better ambitions, and his youngest offspring did become a formidable foe as well, a master of magic by rank, but he couldn't deny his firstborn of his intentions.

Alatar gave his blessing as the eldest prince courted the young maiden who worked as a healer in the town's pharmacy. He came to know his daughter-in-law to be, and ended up not regretting the choice. She was beautiful, he rarely came across such loveliness among ordinary people. She was genuine, polite and pleasant too, he came to be fascinated by her expertise in herbs and her noble goals. If she weren't pursued by the prince, she would've accompanied the King's men into war as a doctor. He could respect that.

The girl, Elise was her name, would make a good wife for his son. Caring, gentle, yet knowing how to be headstrong, he had no doubt she would be fine as queen.

A few days after the two's marriage and their respective crowning ceremonies, the great Alatar passed away peacefully in his sleep. His two sons mourned, Hex, though he wouldn't say it devastated him, made a decision to move out of the palace.

Spellbinder would soon be raising his own family after all, and Hex was perfectly set on his mind to rebuild the abandoned tower fortress at the west mountain range of Ledgerdomain to deem it his living space. The estate was in ruins from the destruction of the old war Alatar had with Adwaita, but it was nothing a little, well a _lot_ of magic couldn't fix. Spellbinder respected his brother's wishes and condone it, even though he wasn't exactly keen on the idea of family being separated. Spellbinder had first thought that following their father's passing, he and Devon could reconcile about their previous rivalry.

Hex had no forthcoming interest in bonding with his brother, and now newly crowned King. In fact he didn't want his true name anymore, only wanting to be addressed as his warlock title. Devon was gone, and Phillip would just have to let him go.

Phillip did on one condition; Hex must find it in his heart to still be a part of their family, brothers, and allies. The younger brother agreed, he would visit from time to time, and be a warrior at his King's side when needed, but he will be given his peace, his solitude. With a heavy heart, King Spellbinder bade him so.

He wasn't fond of the loneliness Hex was subjecting himself into, but he couldn't set any order against such a request. Hex was still a prince and a fully grown man in his own right.

For the next five years, life went on. He found the last day of Spring a particularly joyous one, Elise brought him great news at the palace's garden; she was with child.

Phillip couldn't be happier, he was finally going to become a father and his love, a mother. Bearing a child wasn't easy, he'd give her that, but during the late months of her pregnancy, it became clear; his queen was very ill. Magic, even his magic combined with Hex's couldn't solve this particular problem without causing unknown repercussions. So he decided to be cautious, and let the decision come to his wife herself; that is before she revealed this particular bit of secret.

As a skilled healer and apothecary, Elise knew there were herbs that could revive her but it had consequences for the womb in her belly. Phillip wanted her to take the chance, he couldn't afford to lose his wife, but the woman insisted she couldn't; the child they conceived meant more than her own life. He honored her and so obeyed his queen, as his heart shattered into a million pieces not even the sweetest of kisses could mend.

On the final weeks of the queen's pregnancy, she was bedridden, too weak to even move and venture the botany glasshouse in the gardens, her favorite part of the palace. Her husband remained by her side at all times, abandoning his work; meetings with the nobles and military officials, tax reports with the head of economy and so on, even though his Elise was feverish and only awake for short periods of time.

Whenever she was conscious he made it his job to bring her to laughter, using his magic for silly feats Hex would surely disapprove of. Alike to what one would witness at street performances, he conjured flowers, camomiles were her favorite, small glittery sparks similar to fireworks, doves and butterflies, anything and everything.

He did that, with a smile on his face, murmuring soft whispers, even when he felt like crying, knowing her fate was sealed. If only he hadn't pressed his father into agreeing about their union, none of this would have happened. She would've ended up with a regular fellow, a gorgeous young lady like her would surely have many enamored suitors at her feet. But he had to be stubborn, because he wanted her.

Spellbinder pieced together his father's initial skepticism and unwillingness at the idea of him and Elise; there were dangers in marrying and consummating the love between members of the royal blood and non magical spouses.

His own mother, the late Queen Veronica, was a third generation member of a noble family, of whom her ancestors practiced magic. She posed better resistance at bearing Raphael's children, but since her own genes were dormant she eventually succumbed to the pain during the birth of her second child. A few days after Hex was pulled out of her womb, unaware in the nursery, his mother passed.

Phillip was barely four and he hadn't even gotten his share of the warmth of a mother. Devon, Hex – had never even spoken a word to her, let alone squeak out his first. There was always something about the women dying in his family, he grumbled.

Soon, after weeks of companionship that felt too short for him, Elise went into labor. The servants and more importantly the midwife helped the queen deliver the baby. The King was too inside the room, he didn't care if it was unorthodox or not, even if the royal psychiatrist had tried to gently escort him out, he was hellbent on being there for his wife.

He held her hand tightly, as she shrieked and screamed and pushed, even then she _wasn't_ loud and it worries him.

The baby came, her hair an odd yet breathtaking silver color, her eyes a unique shade of lilac yet she could see perfectly, and the midwife deemed her healthy so they weren't anything to be concerned about. The servant handed the recently born child to her mother, and soon everyone cleared the room, leaving the family in their privacy.

Phillip thought he'd never seen anything better than this in his life, his Elise with their daughter in her arms.

Elise cooed at her bundle of joy, and she stopped crying almost immediately, instead gazing a little hazily at the familiar face, making unintelligible sounds.

"I don't have much time," Elise said.

"No, we do have time, the herbs; I can have Rhiannon fetch them for you within minutes.." He was about to leave for the hallways, to find his wife's most trusted handmaiden, but the queen grasped at his sleeve, pulling him back to her.

_"Don't._ Don't call anyone. I want you to hold her.."

He did so, unable to resist her compulsion, taking the child in his arms, she was a tiny thing he still marveled after. Elise, frail and deathly pale from losing too much blood laid back in the pillows.

He glanced at her, she was smiling softly at the sight of her husband and child. "Phillip, you're going to make an amazing father. Far better than Raphael ever did."

"Don't talk as if you're saying goodbye, _please,_ I can't bear listening to things like these," he held their daughter with one arm with careful balance, his other hand reaching to stroke her face. Her skin was clammy and cold.

"Phillip, I don't want to be healed. I'm strong enough for what's to come.."

"But I'm not," he sheds a tear, and Elise somehow finds the will to lift her slender hand and wipe it as it trailed down his cheek.

"Darling," Elise whispers, "It's not forever. And it's not like I'll be gone, I'm always with you," her hand slumps to his chest, his thumping, beating heart and stays there, "Right _here._ You don't need to mourn me, I wish you will not."

The tears keep on coming. Phillip prided himself for being unshaken, but in the walls of their chambers, seeing his wife on her deathbed, so angelic it was a curse, he couldn't bring himself to be the placid, emotionless man his father shaped him to be.

"How could you forgive me, beloved? I've been the cause of your suffering from the start. This child I forced upon you cost you your life," he trapped her hand in his, their fingers entwined.

She squeezed his trembling hand as best she could. _"Forced?"_ She barks out a short laugh, it startles him a bit. "My love, I clearly remember I did _far_ more than what you give me credit for during the _very_ long night of our wedding," she teased, and it suddenly feels so hard to breathe, and Phillip realizes why; he's laughing along with her.

"I also do recollect the part where _you_ ripped my cape by accident after you stepped on it.." He added, finding her attempts at humor as a comfort in this dire time.

"And you got a bump after tripping and hitting your head right here," she looked up a bit to the carved headboard of their very large bed, her eyes affectionate. "I never knew making love would involve a _lot_ of bruises, _and_ markings.. But apparently _my_ prince takes it to a whole new level."

He's cynical, but it gets pass her, she allowed her husband to spit foul words for the time being, it was the only way he could react to this without falling apart. "I never knew making love would involved someone getting killed."

"I wouldn't say _killed_, just a very slow, wonderfully _blissful_ death I'll gladly go through over and over again.. I owe that blessing to you for making me the happiest woman in the world when you proposed to me.."

"You could've said no.." She couldn't have, not because he was the King's son, but because she'd be breaking her own heart if she rejected him.

She was as equally charmed by him when she'd been the tender flowering age of eighteen, even when he may have not realized of it, men were oblivious creatures, even if that one man happened to be a mighty wizard who adopted a strange stalker-like habit of visiting the cramped pharmacy, frequently buying medicines which functions he couldn't even decipher, just as a guise to get to know her.

"I'd never forgive myself if I did," she told him, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Why?"

"Because I love you, and I'll stay with you for an eternity.." _Liar._

"I can't lose you.."

"You have her, and you'll be _more_ than enough for her.." Phillip nodded harshly, gazing into their slumbering daughter, thanking the universe she was too young to understand her mother was _dying_.

"I love you," he tells her in the nick of time, her breathing was growing far too shallow, her chest barely rising and falling. That moment, Spellbinder felt powerless. A broken man.

"She'll be the best of both of us.." She rasped. Wincing and gasping, before calming down, too still for his liking. Her eyes are still half opened, with the same forlorn look in her golden irises.

"She will," he finds himself saying, agreeing. His finger came to her soft lips, her nose, his queen no longer breathes. She was gone.

He clenches his jaw, grimacing as he halfheartedly closed her eyelids.

Outside the windows, outside the suite's balcony, the first drop of rain hits the ground.

* * *

His daughter's name was quite fitting for what she meant to him. _Hope._

She gave him courage, the ability to dream and seek happiness, she was his only hope.

True names, he now regarded them as a powerful thing, keys, tools, weapons even. He came to realize there were reasons for his father's sometimes ridiculous policies.

Hex came to him one day, unannounced, telling him of his findings. It was known to common man that Hex created several of his own magical spells and Spellbinder gladly copied them into the palace's archive. Recently the younger of the two found something truly captivating in his experiments.

For magic users, curses, a form of offensive magic were eventually ineffective when you counter them with a defense spell or a counter curse. However when performed using one's true name instead, it was deadly and unstoppable.

Spellbinder had no clue of how Hex tested such a thing, and he decided he was better off not knowing. He was just grateful, his brother still considered it relevant matters, enough to make him share and warn his sibling and King. Not out of obligation, but out of desire. Hex did care about him.

They both began to comprehend why only their inner circle, family, were given the right to know each other's true names, why their subjects could only know them as their respective title names.

That was why Alatar prohibited Spellbinder from telling Elise his real name was Phillip, or any other true names in his family of three, before the two were officially married. Absurd, but a required protocol.

It was for safety reasons, Ledgerdomain, though the dimension was the source flow of magic, its skies the color of mana may be targeted by other realms. They didn't have incredible knowledge of the vast galaxy to know which realm may bred potentially dangerous magic users, but if there were such things as that, and perhaps they organized a political movement against the royal family of Ledgerdomain, their true names were an asset for any magic combat. It was best if they were kept sparsely a secret.

Hope was a lovely little child. Spellbinder cared for his daughter more than anything in the world, always sparing at least an hour or two to be with his little sweetheart no matter how tired he was. He read her bedtime stories, on occasion ordered around servants to buy her things like toys and dresses, she was the soul of innocence that brightened his day whenever the sun seemed to set too early.

Even as a toddler Hope was very smart and quick thinking on her feet. She didn't like the outdoors much, preferring to stay within the confines of the castle in her luxury.

She was by no means spoiled, Spellbinder may have spoiled her but his precocious little angel was kind and reasonable to everyone around her. She may have been a little bubble of mischief, certainly Rhiannon should get a raise for her extra troubles, but that was how it should be, that was how Spellbinder wished her daughter would be. Living at her very best.

Sometimes she'd eat dessert before her vegetables, she put too much sugar in her milk, stole chocolate cake from the banquets they have, brought stray pets home from the gardens because she couldn't stand leaving the robin with the broken wing, do all sorts of things that made him dizzy yet unimaginably happy.

Hope also shared his passion for reading, by the time she was five, the girl had the mindset of a ten year old from all the sophistication she gained from her studies. Spellbinder employed several scholars, told them to teach everything her daughter would like to learn, at her most comfortable pace.

He didn't want to push her the way Alatar did to him, he had faith in his little girl, she'll grow to be a butterfly when the time is right. Spellbinder hadn't expect that one of the tutor he assigned to educate his daughter would be a tie-breaker to his daughter's character. A disastrous one.

It was a middle aged man, give and take a year or two from his age, he didn't expect the man had been an old unrequited lover of his late Elise. He'd come to the palace under false pretenses, as a paladin and had been tasked by the King to teach the princess the basic norms of magic.

She didn't need to be able to do magic, it was purely coincidence and luck if she could inherit his genetics for her mother had been mundane, but within her position she just needed to be familiar with it.

The paladin was a fake, and the ruse had been to assassinate the princess, the very child whom he concluded must've killed his childhood friend and beau, Elise. The man thought, if he couldn't get to the King, with his lack of magical aptitude and all, he'd go for the next best thing. His daughter, his treasure.

Spellbinder rushed to the library when he found out of the truth, one of the knights recognized the man as a peasant, a local cobbler. He was not whom he said he is.

What greeted the King's sight almost spurned a heart attack. His daughter was cornered, her back against a pillar. The intruder had held a sword inches away from piercing Hope's ribs, but what caught him by surprise was the fact that the man was frozen head to toe. His expression was that of a battle cry cut short.

A spell book laid open in the princess' hand, and she was breathing hard, obviously shocked from what she'd just done. Hope was a magic user, he cried her name as his little girl dropped the grimoire, running into her father's arms for an embrace.

The girl broke into tears, he'd thought it was tears of relief from the adrenaline, from survival, he was wrong. So completely wrong.

All this time Hope knew her mother had died under unfortunate circumstances, an elaborate cover plot Spellbinder manufactured to protect his daughter from the truth that her mother died during childbirth, as he didn't want any negative implications to be planted in her mind. The man his little princess turned into a statue had shattered that illusion.

Hope stiffened, stuttering, "You lied to me. I- I _killed_ mother."

"Forgive me," Spellbinder pleaded, unable to withstand his daughter's sobbing.

She did forgive him. But she never forgave herself.

* * *

The year passed slowly and painfully.

Spellbinder placed blame on the impostor for the change in Hope. What became of him may have been tragic, the spell permanent and impossibly unbreakable, and in the end he was smashed into pieces by the mine workers' axes (turns out the stone his daughter had frozen him into had been worth of some value). Spellbinder found that he wasn't sorry for the cobbler's fate, his justified mercy be damned.

His little girl, barely six, had morphed into a heartless being. Gone was his perfect, innocent Hope. He feared it wasn't just a phase too, it was least likely a shell or exterior the child was putting on, she was truly cold, unfeeling and volatile.

She grew impulsive, rude and disrespectful to the servants, was no longer interested in anything related to her people's well being, she hated animals, she no longer cared to make friends with other children, she was only interested in things he didn't want her to be.

She burned the toys and dresses she didn't like, the picture storybooks on her bedroom's shelves were replaced by spell books and myths that should've given a child her age nightmares instead of wonder and intrigue.

The only part of Hope that remained intact was her resolve and diligence. The only people she would answer to were her tutors, and that is if she wasn't feeling defiant, her father the King, and her uncle.

Hope had taken a liking to Hex, despite only knowing him for a short month or two as her uncle was more than lenient to let her learn magic. Spellbinder never warmed up to the idea that his little girl would dwell on the world of mysticism far too soon before she was ready, but magic was the only thing where Hope could vent out her pent up rage.

Sometimes you needed a release, and he knew he would have heed to pay if he dare interrupt his daughter's only interest in life.

Hope's sixth birthday was a memorable one, though it wasn't exactly what he had in mind. He wanted to throw her a ball, like the usual one with all the servants and her playmates and their immediate families attending to celebrate the princess' age. She declined, and instead wanted a simple banquet for three.

For him, herself and Uncle Hex.

She'd said it with much conviction like she wouldn't take his reasoning or suggestions kindly, that he opted to just go along with it. He could not afford to disappoint her further than what's already been done in the past.

During the dinner, she didn't even bother to wear a more extravagant gown, thinking it was nonsense, even for a princess. She did look presentable, her long silver hair braided back, her fair skin without flaw, but it was ordinary, usually she'd pamper and have the maids do something special to her appearance. She arrived last, wearing her usual plum dress, did a very stiff silent curtsy to address her father and uncle, both already seated on opposite corners of the table.

This wasn't how a six year old should behave, Phillip thought deep down as Hope took a seat between the two men, her manners impeccable.

The meal started and this next exchange, he somehow knew he could never forget.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," he said.

"Thank you, Father," Hope took a moment to look away from her plate and look into her father's eyes. Spellbinder found it unnerving that she stopped calling him _daddy_ or even _dad_. She was too young to be this no nonsense lady, she was six and not sixteen, in the latter's case perhaps it would be understandable, but this? He found it heartbreaking that he betrayed her trust so badly. "I appreciate you let me invite Uncle Hex."

"It was no problem," Spellbinder answered.

His brother's eyebrow shot upwards at this, but he stayed mute, merely swallowing the fillet of venison. His niece eyed him shortly, "Uncle, thank you for taking your time to attend."

Hex smiled, "It was my pleasure, it is a special time of the year."

Now at first, during the first few years of his niece's birth, he thought of the crown princess as a nuisance.

First she was a woman, incompetent to lead a kingdom should his gutless older brother hand it over to her.

Secondly, she never showed signs of being able to carry on the magic bloodline.

But that all changed when the child, though young and inexperienced, proved to be far more ruthless and ambitious than most grown adults proved to be. She foiled his expectations, having discovered her powers over a year ago through an impressive feat, casting an intermediate level curse towards an oncoming murderer.

Sure the girl may become bitter, spiteful, but she grew a backbone, a quality someone like Hex could appreciate. The girl idolized him too, and as soon as he stepped foot months ago during the winter's end onto the castle and she found out he was a more promising not to mention liberating substitute as a magic instructor (Spellbinder always limited her curiosities) - she practically blackmailed her father into letting her train under his apprenticeship via emotional leverage.

This young girl, he saw shades of himself in her. Driven, unsympathetic, mature.

Hex saw potential in her. In due time, under his tutelage and directions she would be able to accomplish tasks most grown adults are too cowardly to even attempt. He listened to the conversation the father and daughter pair were having. It died short within minutes, and on a rather unpleasant note at that for his brother as the princess had politely denied each present offering the King wished to give her.

He had to hand it to her, this girl was everything her father should've been when he was her age. She had no want for anything remotely childish such as friends, a new piano, a painting kit, she only had a thirst for power, control and dominance. She was good material for queen, far better than her deceased mother would ever compare to be.

He may or may not have spotted a vein popping from Spellbinder's forehead when he earned a more enthusiastic response from the young girl.

"I come bearing gifts too, little one. I hope they suit your liking," he said. Hope tentatively observed him as he produced a satchel and held it forward to her.

Spellbinder gritted her teeth, wanting to berate his brother; out of all the things he could've given his daughter on her birthday, it had to be something to do with magic. The thing practically reeked of mystical energy.

The King however did take some pleasure when his daughter asked next, apparently too surprised at the bag's appearance to mask her irk and confusion. "I'm sorry, Uncle Hex. I didn't mean to ridicule you, but why doesn't it look very nice?"

The satchel wasn't made out of fine wool or leather, instead it was worn out polyester and its color looked unappetizing, a shade of green that tipped a bit to brown from being caked with dirt.

Hex actually grinned at her, "That's because this is no ordinary purse, and your gift doesn't end here."

At this sentence, Hope looked remarkably interested, her attention focused on her uncle. The wizard took out two egg-shaped rocks from the bag, tossing them onto the granite floor below between them.

Hope inspected the rocks, they had an intricate pattern designed onto them that glowed a bright magenta, and that was when she realized they probably had magic flowing through them.

As she suspected, they did something out of the ordinary. The eggs then shone a blinding white-violet light, before they transformed into sizable golems. They were alive.

"What can they do?" The princess asked excitedly.

"Anything you want them to do. Give out the order and they'll do as you command," Hex replied smugly.

Hope actually laughed, if briefly. "Okay, I want you two to run around the table. _Fast."_

They did as she told them, circling the large banquet table in seconds, before coming to a stop at her feet, nothing but obedient. She actually had minions, who tolerated her every wish, no question. She turned to her uncle, exclaiming, "They're exactly what I wanted. Thank you so much, Uncle Hex!"

"None necessary, child. It's a joy to see you smile. Now you probably want to know how I came up with your present, right?"

"I do want to know," she beamed.

"I came upon the rocks at an antique store, they're actually just bits and pieces of pottery really. The satchel was an old thing I found at an abandoned campsite a few years back. I enchanted them both with advanced magic, making things come to life requires effort, you know?"

Hope nodded appreciatively, Spellbinder rolled his eyes at his brother's tale.

"But animating objects is my favorite, I infused them with magic. Brewed the required potion using ash from an oak tree, the tallest one in the mountains. The potion makes it eternal, if I just spelled them, it would only work temporarily, a few months at the longest."

Hex continued to speak, relishing at the irritation and misery he was causing to his brother.

"This next part is the trickiest, but worth the trouble. Portal magic, the depths of this-," he handed her the satchel and she rested it on her lap, "-is endless. Think of it as a pocket dimension. You won't run out of golems, even if they're somehow destroyed."

"I'm glad you're my teacher," Hope stated, unaware of how much her words stung to her father. He supposed she couldn't have known.

"Well when I'm entrusted with such a _dedicated_ student like yourself, I'm the one who should be proud," he told her easily.

Her violet orbs shone with admiration, before she regarded Spellbinder. "Father, may I be excused? I wish to entertain myself with Uncle's gifts."

Spellbinder nodded, granting her his permission, he couldn't see how he could stop her, and maybe it was for the best anyways, he needed to have a small chat with his brother.

"Of course, sweetie."

Hope ran out of the table, and soon left the dining hall along with her new.. _friends,_ the satchel on her shoulder bouncing and swinging behind her.

Spellbinder sighed as he watched his daughter disappear, meanwhile Hex erupted in a rumble of deep laughter.

_"What_ were you thinking? Giving her things like that, _huh?"_ Spellbinder's voice was low and booming.

"Your welcome, brother. She likes it, doesn't she? Obviously I'm faring up much better in present shopping than you are with her. And she's _your_ daughter," Hex pointed out, tipping his head back as he drank from the crystalline goblet.

"I just had about enough of your interference in her life, I'm her guardian! From now on, you're not welcomed here if you continue on being her instructor."

Hex was a picture of utter nonchalance, calmly countering him with; "You'll only upset her, Phillip. And I know how much you want to avoid _that_ particular emotion coming out from the princess."

Spellbinder clenched his fists, knowing he was defeated. "You are a snake, Hex. I want her to slow down." _Or better yet, stop._

"That's what _you_ want. Ever consider what _she_ wants?"

"I know what's best for her. I know what she needs."

"Finally! It's so ironic hearing those words coming out of your mouth! You know, that's what father thought when _you_ kept complaining about how he pushed you to your limits. It may not have been what you _wanted_, but it's what you _needed_. I know you plan on being different than Alatar was, but now with you caging Hope, wanting her to act like your little puppet, you're no better than him. She _yearns_ for freedom, just like you do when we were young.. She's your exact reflection, except for the completely different desires."

"This doesn't change anything. You _cannot_ manipulate my ideals against me."

"That's what she'll be telling you too when you forbid her to progress in her magic studies. It's a shame, she's grown rather proficient for a beginner."

"I know what I'm putting at stake."

"Her dreams for yours?"

"Hex, you are a rotten soul."

"I'll take that under advisement."

"I don't want her to lose her sanity. It's clear she's not well ever since she found out-"

"About her mother who died during childbirth, and she happened to be the child responsible? My heart_ bleeds_, really."

Spellbinder frowns, knowing Hex truly did have a solid, intimate stand on the matter. He was after all, the subject of a similar position once.

"Hex, just please, at least if she becomes corrupted, promise me you'll help me _save_ her."

"I may not have always shown it over the years, but I'm _always_ on your side, brother. You have my word. And I can't believe you think I'm incapable of amassing my grip on her. I'm hurt. She's a _child,_ I can handle her. Don't fret over it, she's hungry for strength, but she won't become a power hungry lunatic, I can assure you that."

_She'll still turn into a monster, she couldn't become someone like her mother. _

"I just don't like seeing her turning out this way. Things could've gone better."

"You think parenting's _easy?_ _That_ is an occupation I'll gladly turn away from, even if it means living my days as a monk in the shadows."

"And you're satisfied with that life? Locking yourself up in a tower filled with dusty talismans with no one to share your hours with.."

"I find it a fair compromise. If you do find Hope a little too wild, you could always give her up for adoption, I'll _gladly_ take her under my wing. Then I can stop visiting you since she's already there."

"Not a chance, Hex. You've got to be fooling yourself, the only way you'll have her is if she lost her mind." Which is sadly far closer to reality than he'd like to admit. "You know, when I told her I wished she'd try to make friends, living dogs made out of clay isn't exactly what I meant.."

"I'm giving her the good graces of skipping that annoying, desperate part of society procedures. She's a princess, she doesn't need _anyone_ but you and I. On addition, making living, human friends isn't her forte either, if you haven't noticed."

"She needs to learn how to associate herself with other people other than family sooner or later. Her duties as heir and crown princess depends on how well she can communicate."

Hex chuckles. "I wouldn't worry about that. They girl's a born leader despite the rough edges and you _know_ it. She's a jewel among your people. Even now, when she's not the perfect, insolent little girl you want her to be. You'll come to understand that someday."

_How far is _someday_ from now, exactly?_

Spellbinder, knowing his servants weren't around to see his non king-like actions, decided to blow off some steam. With an all too subtle flicker of his fingers, his brother's drink spilled onto his robes.

_"Really?_ That's how you respond? Sometimes I wonder who the six year old in this house truly is.." Hex snapped his fingers, and he was instantly clean. He stood up then, procuring his staff out of thin air. "Thank you for the meal, Phillip. Send my love to Hope."

Spellbinder didn't decline him of exit, his expression passive. Hex was having a wonderful time at his expense. "What do you have against magic, anyway? Why do you hate it so much? For some of us," he clears his throat, "Namely your daughter and I – we _live_ for it."

Spellbinder didn't answer his brother until he'd already teleported in a white flash, wanting no one to hear his answer. Alone, he slumped on his chair, his words barely audible.

"It killed my wife."

_And it might just kill my daughter too._

* * *

"Come in," his daughter's voice answered his knocking, granting him entry later that night.

Spellbinder stepped into his princess' room, still astonished to the redecorating she did to it months prior due to her newer outlooks in life.

"I just want to tell you happy birthday and goodnight, my darling." He sat at the foot of her bed, and congratulated himself for not giving the satchel at her bedside table's edge a sour look.

"Thank you, it's been a good evening." Hope told her father as she combed her long hair, now no longer bound, with smooth, precise strokes. In this minute moment, his daughter looking serene and delicate as she sat cross-legged on the too large mattress (note for her current stature), he thought she actually resembled his Elise.

The girl beat it to his skull to remind him that she wasn't her at all with this next course of movement.

Having finished untangling a knot of silver, she looked calculatingly at the comb resting in her hand, before it vanished in a flash of purple.

He tried to sound positive. "You're getting really good at that stuff."

"I am," she said confidently, and Phillip thought he wanted to punch her dresser's mirror just a few feet away from where he sat. The only time she smiles, why does it have to be because of magic? The King obviously restrained himself.

"Have a good night's sleep, my daughter." He stood, wanting to part with her so she could rest until tomorrow.

"Wait," she called just as he was about to touch the golden doorknob.

"What is it, flower?"

"I know what I want for my birthday, father," she remarked.

His hands came up momentarily in effect. "Well, that's great! What you want, you shall have, princess."

Hope looked like she was beating around the bush with this one, so Phillip patiently listened.

"Uncle Hex taught me the importance of true names just a week ago on our last session. I've been thinking, I don't want to have that kind of liability being used against me.."

Alright, Phillip knew where this was going, and he didn't like it one bit. She wanted one name to replace the one she's went with since birth.

"But darling, your mother chose your name for you," he tells her. It was a lie, a little white lie, and no harm could come to it. It wasn't in instinct for him to deceive her, yet again, but he just couldn't lose her. He couldn't lose _hope,_ in both senses as his daughter, Hope and as a beacon of the good fortune.

"I've decided, Father._ Please,_ from this moment on I don't wish to be addressed as Hope by anyone," her voice was solid, that of a princess, and Phillip knew he had no choice but to agree.

"Alright." He forced a smile on his face, "What do you want to be called?"

Her eyes gleamed with passion, "Charmcaster."

"As you wish my princess," he bid her goodnight then, before leaving his daughter's room, shutting the door behind him.

_"Charmcaster,"_ he muttered, feeling sick as his daughter's new name rolled from his tongue.

The widowed father and King shot out a beam of explosive magic, decimating the vase of roses propped on a nearby table on the hallway's opposite wall. Plant water flooded out, drenching the carpeted floor.

He muttered a simple drying spell, taking care of the problem immediately. He leaned on a column for support, not because he was weak, but because he felt like tearing apart the whole castle. If only Hex wasn't his brother, he would have his head for this.

Or torture him.

Yes, on second thought, torture did sound more expendable, conveniently open to interpretation.

Torture it is.

* * *

As King, Spellbinder had inquiries he cannot escape. He had to make sure Ledgerdomain was in balance of power, and he had to ensure the safety of his kingdom from other beings.

So far, he'd subjected nineteen planets into submission. He'd either render them weak and trapped within a barrier of his own magic, or he'd resolve into killing if they were grotesque monsters.

The bloodshed came easier day by day, as long as he was slaying things that looked like animals, without human intelligence, it was just like a hunter doing his job in the forest to make his dues with trading by the town's butcher.

It was also good exercise for him and his men. He came to value his knights as more than mere protectors, they were comrades, friends and it felt great to know they worked together like a well oiled machine at each world conquest.

He was the only one with magic, anything else would be out of the question, but he came to truly value his men for their swordsmanship and expertise at maneuvering on terrain. They certainly played large parts in his victories.

Embarking on his expedition for the twentieth planet, he'd thought there would be no difference. Same goals, same obstacles.

He was sorely mistaken.

Anodyne's species was humanoid for starters, and they were all beautifully ethereal. Bodies of glowing free spirited energy, they were all made of mana. White, neon green, red, golden, blue, but ultimately the purest form of all was what amazed him - magenta. Black was a deviation, because it wasn't the color of energy, it was entirely impure and made out of darkness, loathing, and demons.

The colors specialize in different properties, and can manifest themselves as extra abilities or talents for magic users whom became masters or in other words, their magic was fully matured and at their peak.

For example, Alatar's magic was golden, it represented insight and can be translated in his immunity to compulsion or mind control spells but he had a knack for exploiting others to it for his own devices.

Hex's was blood red and it represented aggression, he was blessed with resilience to physical torment and his inhuman lack of need for basic functions like sleep, that explained the hollow bellow his eyes, but the man himself was never anything but alert. Usually Hex only slept for the amusement of it, or at times when he found he was bored and had nothing to do.

Spellbinder's own magic was white. And he had the power of empathy, he could sense the emotions around him, though he had no control nor influence of them unlike his father. It does come very practical to his approach on politics and relationships and he thought it was good enough of a blessing.

Charmcaster's magic was still unqualified to be categorized into such systems, because her magic was still developing, that of a small youth, but it wouldn't hurt for the father to predict. He guessed from her purple color, she'll either turn blue, or turn lighter to white like him or glow brighter to become magenta. It all depends on her, she's the one with the steer.

Spellbinder wondered, if the anodytes lived within Ledgerdomain, would they alter the skies' colors? Perhaps the ever shifting colors of mana on Ledgerdomain's sky would grow thicker, denser, possibly even more enriching to the veins of magic users within the dimension. He'd love to know and experience it firsthand. Maybe there would even be stars and comets.

The horde of horses continued to gallop across the town square, with him as King leading the charge. The city, adopting Greek-like elements like the statues and overall white scheme was a blank void, empty, with no living souls to come by. The anodytes he presumed were standing guard within the palace. They must've arranged this, more prepared than other victims of his army's assault.

His stallion buckled suddenly, a rope of energy tangled in the horse's ankle, the structure originating from an anodyte in the sky. He expected thousands more rallying behind her, but she was alone.

She floated in the air, her body a pool of glowing magenta. Her voice was distorted, as if there were multiple characters talking with her vocal cords.

Spellbinder could sense some of his men, and with common sense, began drawing out their weapons in anticipation of the intimidating creature before them.

"Is something wrong, Ledgerdomain King?" She taunted daringly, before giving a sharp pull at his horse that he fell to the soil before he could even blink.

His men were startled, not at their fallen King, but at what happened next.

Their lord's majestic white stallion began to writhe and convulse in pain. The anodyte however kept the animal in place somehow, and suddenly the horse projected a ray of energy which was absorbed into her. It tried to jump away, miserably failing to do so, very much helpless in the situation.

Spellbinder gasped, she just took the animal's life force, without a draining spell or the sort. Her hair which suggestively was made of mana as well, lengthens into tentacles, as a sign of new-found strength.

"Thank you, sir. Your camarillo made a very nice snack. I suggest you turn back now, while I can tell while your misguided intentions may not be entirely unkind, it _will_ ruin my populous. Which is why I sent away my sisters for an excursion in their realm of choice. You'll either have your dance with me, along with most your men losing their lives, or you run. The decision is yours."

"Who are you?" Spellbinder could not help but to ask, the anodyte before him was incredibly powerful, and her words indicated she was their leader of some sort. A queen perhaps?

"I'm no queen if that's what you're thinking. In our land we have no such prejudice, but we do have a special calling. I am Verdona and I am this planet's protector as my sisters see me fit."

Spellbinder counted his chances. Verdona looks amused.

"If you're thinking of bringing me in as prisoner, you know it won't work out well for you. Either kill me or walk away, Spellbinder."

The King ruefully smiled, pulling out the amulet on his neck, previously hidden beneath his coat.

"Is that-?" Verdona's voice actually held a measurable amount of fear.

"The Alpha Rune. My prize from Adwaita's defeat. I can annihilate your entire planet with one thought."

Verdona looks rigid now, no longer the playful spirit she was before. "You're bluffing."

"Would you like to see me do it?"

"I'd like to see you fight like a man. With honor. Fight me using your magic, without the help of that artifact, without your troops. God knows you need to learn a thing or two about taking things for granted."

Spellbinder raised an eyebrow at this.

"I've seen the state of my neighbor's realms. They're putrid, too far gone to be healed, all thanks to you, oh, _heroic_ King. Your people can't see you for who you really are, selfish and cowardly."

"That's nothing I haven't heard before. You'd have to do better to damage my ego."

"What about _this?!_" And out of nowhere a pink tentacle wrapped itself around his torso. He was tossed high into the air, for the anodyte to release him as he plummet down onto the castle. His weight broke through the ceiling, as he now ended up in a circular conference room or the sort, landing on a marble podium.

He was a little sore and bruised, but he was fine. He's taken worse numbers before.

Verdona floated down from the hole in the roof, her energy brighter than the sun's rays. "Come on, let's see if you do live up to your moniker, _King,"_ she spat.

For the next few minutes or so, Spellbinder only defended himself. Ran and ducked for cover even when he had no time to create shields. For the first time in his life, he knew he was outclassed. Verdona, the anodyte was certainly the higher being here. She will defeat him, even in a fight of honor, a duel that meant life or death.

Debris were thrown at him, blocking his way as his vision blurred from all the dust and sand. Verdona was truly sticking to her word, giving him the time of day to recover, a few seconds that was worth very much.

He feared his life when the energy being laughed. Her hair wound up around her face like a halo, and her pose was as if she was summoning something.

When he felt like the air was being sucked from his lungs, as he begun to suffocate, he knew what she was doing. She was draining him of his mana, an endgame sequence of her preference it seems.

He broke their deal. His fingers struggled, but they did come to touch the Alpha Rune, and in seconds, the pathway of energy was reversed. The anodyte's energy flowed into him, his breath hitched from the sensation of her mana's taste. It was intoxicating.

Verdona's body sunk to the ground, her light, her life force flickering unhealthily. "I knew it," she groaned. "You really are a coward. A _weakling._ I just hope the rest of your family isn't as pathetic. You've won, but without any courage."

"You're dying," he breathed out, unable to conceal his horror that he was able to kill such a godly creature.

"We're not immortals, you know. My kind can live eternally unless they're murdered."

"I apologize."

"Don't apologize, but I do want to know, are _you_ a murderer?" Her voice was far softer now, as she attempted to catch her breath.

"I- I don't know," he gulped.

"Find it in yourself to discover the truth, Spellbinder."

"How?"

"There's a child, in the room to your left. A mere infant, she means the world to me and my sisters. My kind won't seek revenge, we don't believe in the fruits of vengeance, but they will cease to exist if she dies."

She moans, and somehow the landscape they were within started to shake with great tremors. The aftermath of her demise was colossal.

"What are you doing?" He panics. Verdona's white eyes were glossy, as if she were in fantasy.

"When an anodyte dies, our spirit travels to the afterlife. A part of us though, a _spark,_ becomes part of the one thing we love the most. The child is more human than I am, she's like you, Spellbinder and your daughter, well mostly. She'll come to her natural form once she..." Her words trailed off.

"Once she what?" He presses on, the structure would collapse anytime soon, and he'd have to run, and maybe.. save her too.

"Finds something worth fighting for."

Verdona's last breath was like a knife to his chest. He had trouble soaking in the concept of his actions. He was torn with regret.

But it wasn't too late.

It really wasn't.

Taking the anodyte's limp hand, Spellbinder rips the Alpha Rune off him, to lay the item to rest with her. He would leave it behind, along with the destruction, the grave he caused.

Spellbinder sprints to the child, she was wailing, the sound piercing through his eardrums worse than the cracking and tumbling of pillars and concrete if possible. With a second to spare, rushing with the baby cradled in his arms, he vacated the structure before it demolished to ashes.

His men won't say a word, they had pledged their absolute allegiance to him when they joined the cavalry. He needn't worry about them.

He looked at the child, the lightweight bundle he held that somehow seemed heavier as the realization dawned upon him.

She was a fragile thing from heaven. She was pure. The small sprout of hair on her scalp was carrot colored, her skin a light shade of cream, and her eyes grass green.

He couldn't pry his eyes off her, he had to redeem himself, through her. She would not be cast aside, she will be surrounded by people who will care for her with all of their hearts.

He would take her, raise her alongside Charmcaster. She'll make lifelong friend, a sister to his daughter, she'll bring out the best in her. She'll bring out Hope's locked humanity.

This will mark the end of a long decade of his mistakes, she'll bring forth a new era of peace in his family's relationships.

She'll fix everything.

She'll save his Hope.

He fondly traced his fingers on the blanket's knitting. _Gwendolyn,_ was her name.

The name of his miracle.

* * *

_**A/N: Having a bit of a writer's block with most of my other stories, I will NOT abandon them though. I'm just taking a bit (okay, understatement) of a break. So when this idea came around, this medieval tale which genre I absolutely love, I could not resist, and had typed it up almost immediately. I wish to see feedback on this, to know if it's worth my effort to continue. Review? It would be great pleasure for me if you do.**_


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